


Games

by iluvaqt



Series: Avengers ABCs [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Competitiveness, F/M, Pranks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iluvaqt/pseuds/iluvaqt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint reflects over how well he knows his partner and how he can get her out of her strange flunk. Because Natasha doesn't brood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Games

Being the middle child of three boys, Clint had always been a bit of a mischief maker with a gift of finding that trigger nerve that just set people off. He used that talent to pursue his goals in life and sometimes that meant pranking so he never got bored. In that endeavor he found a kindred spirit in his red-headed partner in crime.

 

Although lately, not so much. Ever since Bruce had decided to pull a disappearing act, Natasha hadn’t been the same witty, sarcastic, dark humored BFF he’d grown to love and fear. In that moment he made it a mission to change that slight frown, upside down. Even if it meant, possibly starting something he wouldn’t get to finish. At least not on top anyway.

 

They were watching some reality talent show, were some hopeful contestants were trying, and failing pretty spectacularly to complete the obstacle course.

 

Natasha, although she was looking at the screen, looked to be a million miles away. Lost in her thoughts again. The bowl of popcorn on the sofa that had been left there for them, had remain untouched for the most part.

 

He took one of the popped kernels and without a seconds thought, flicked it at her head. It caught her right on the temple and because she didn’t even flinch, he wondered briefly if she’d even felt it.

 

He looked down at the bowl again to select one that was extra buttery. Maybe that might get a reaction. Clint had his projectile in hand and looked up to see the space on the floor at the other end of the couch was suspiciously Natasha free.

 

He was immediately alert. An out of sight Natasha was always something to be weary of. She was possibly in sneaky stealth mode and who knew what her return attack would be, depending on her mood.

 

Needless to say, nothing could have prepared him for her ninja approach. He didn’t see her or hear her. How she’d gotten crushed ice from the refrigerator without his hearing the grinding he would ask later. He was too busy shrieking and scrambling off the couch and trying to escape the chill factor sliding down his back.

 

Untucking his shirt, he let the ice which had turned to slush from the warmth of his skin slap against the floorboards. And turned on her with a narrow gaze. “Oh you’re going down.”

 

He grabbed a handful of popcorn and dove at her with it, crumbling it in her hair while he held her in a vice grip with his bow arm hooked around her small waist.

 

That’s when she revealed her second play. She smashed another handful of ice against his stomach which was easily accessible now that he’d freed his shirt. The ice water quickly slipped down from his waistline to his underwear. He tore himself away from her, hopping from foot to foot.

 

“Gah, low blow. Not cool.” Ignoring the biting cold, he swept her up on his shoulder and went out the house. He didn’t stop even with her wild and relentless pummeling and failing. She didn’t really want to get free or he would have found himself in a headlock or on his knees by now from her pinching him in her one of her deadly pressure point attacks.

 

He climbed the stairs to the loft in the barn and promptly tossed her over the edge into the hay pile below. She came up staring daggers at him, straw sticking out from all over. He smirked particularly widely at the few pieces caught in her black tube top. Considering the state of her hair, he was sure she’d be pulling straw from places she’d need help reaching. Good luck with that.

 

“This is war, Barton.”

 

The weekend that followed was a series of one-upmanship that came to a head when Laura found a dead rat in the laundry detergent. Following the birth of Nathaniel, Clint had taken on laundry duty to help out. Naturally Natasha had wrongly assumed that he would be the one greeted by the dead rat taking a post-mortem dip in the laundry powder.

 

"I turned a blind eye to itching dust, the cling wrapped toilet seat, the firecrackers in the truck at 5 A.M., and hidden Widow Bites on the top cupboards where Clint keeps his not so secret stash of Spanish chocolate, but there will be no rats in my house, period! The pranking stops. The rest of the week it's a cease fire or so help me, I'll poison you both. I've got three kids, I'm up at all hours. You two might be super spies and think you're bad-ass but you haven't seen what a mother who's lived through the terrible toddler years twice can think up. Trust me, you'll never see it coming."

 

He and Nat took one look at Laura's stern face and hands on hips stance and meekly shook hands. The matriarch of the house had spoken. They both knew without saying however that the truce was off once they left the farm.

 

At least when she looked at him now, it was with a devious sparkle in her eyes that had been missing for too long. It reminded him of the time she’d shamelessly baited Tony and Pepper had to smack him to get him to close his mouth.

 

::: ::: :::

_Thor declared they should try Darcy’s game, Never Have I Ever - he’d been entertained when asked to play in London, he’d learned a lot about Jane that he wouldn’t have ever thought to ask - Clint doubted he would discover anything surprising about any of their team. What he did learn left him scarily gobsmacked. And surprisingly, it had been outrageously fun._

_Tony rubbed his hands together and snagged the ballpoint from his inner pocket and scrawled out the required answers on a pile of napkins. “Who’s first? Do we spin the bottle or draw straws?” he waggled his eyebrow at Rhodey and his life-long friend, let out a long suffering groan and resignedly accepted his napkin._

_“I say we go around clockwise and we start with you, Thor, since you suggested we unleash this beast and inflict Tony’s exploits on the innocent ears we have here.” His eyes landed on Pepper and Felicity._

_The latter met his eyes and blinked only once. “Why does everyone assume I’m pure as driven snow? If there’s anyone with a smidgen of innocence left, I nominate Steve. After all, I’m pretty sure I corrupted the pants off him.”_

_Maria laughed outright, while Natasha smiled behind her champagne flute and the man himself looked like he was torn between mortification while suffering a blow to his masculine pride. Felicity seemed to notice his expression and rubbed his thigh._

_“You can punish me later,” she stage-whispered._

_Tony’s eyes widened comically, he looked curious and a tad jealous._

_“Never have I ever been a submissive,” Thor boasted loudly, following on Felicity’s innuendo._

_The napkins started waving and for Clint, revealed the expected results, bar one. Rhodey had been very reluctant and shifted uncomfortably, immediately dropping his napkin while a few eyes goggled at his answer._

_“What? I met a girl that liked to role-play. And I’m not the only one, Tasha...” he said with a nod at the napkin revealing the redhead’s answer._

_Tony coughed. “It was probably for a cover… super sneaky spy,” he muttered under his breath._

_“You’re not still sore about that are you, Tony?” she asked while folding her legs under her dress, and relaxed her poise where she sat next to Sam. “Or are you only peeved you didn’t get to work your charm and see how far you could test my commitment to sell the role? After all, I’m a sharing kind of girl, goes with the job, as you said.”_

_Tony looked like someone had slapped him with a herring, his eyes were round and he sat ramrod straight, his jaw slack just staring at Natasha. Clint could almost see the scenarios playing out in the man’s mind. Till Pepper elbowed him in the ribs, hard._

_“Right. Capsicle, your turn,” he said shaking himself out of his fantasies._

_Steve fiddled with invisible lint on his pants and bounced his foot before he glanced at Felicity._

_“Don’t ask for help, come on, we want something fresh. What makes Cap tick? What’s he really curious about?” Tony baited, earning another clear warning from Pepper._

_“Never have I ever gotten so drunk that I puked on someone,” he said haltingly. “That’s mostly because I had a weak constitution and I was a light weight before the serum. After I couldn’t get drunk period. I tried,” he added more softly._

_Clint saw the look he gave Felicity and noticed her silently comfort him with only a touch. Then he remembered that Cap had lost his best friend in the war. Not able to numb that pain, would have been seriously rough._

_The napkins flipped and he had to stifle a laugh at the look on Steve’s face when he read Felicity’s response._

_“What? I keep telling you I went through a rebellious stage and this surprises you? Maybe I shouldn’t tell you about the pot brownies, almost doing Meth with my best friend but changing my mind at the last minute and watching her addiction spiral out of control made me swear off any kind of drugs, including coffee.”_

_That sobered everyone. Till Tony chimed in an effort no doubt to lighten the mood again. “Never have I ever lied.”_

_“Bullshit,” Rhodey called him out. “That’s a lie right there.”_

_“I embellish, I misdirect, I omit but I don’t lie. It only counts as a lie if you never recant by the way.”_

_Natasha snorted and Maria looked bemusedly confused. “How does that even work?”_

_“By his logic, I kind of get it.” Steve frowned. “It’s not a lie if you don’t get caught out?”_

_“Grandpa’s got it.”_

_Felicity threw a pillow at the robotics-tech genius and it caught Tony smack in the chest, spilling his drink all over his crotch._

_“Buzz kill,” Tony griped, using more napkins to wipe up the moisture. “And I don’t see you fessing up, honey.”_

_“I have,” Felicity said waving her napkin. “And I won’t claim that it was always for a good reason either.” She stuck her tongue out at her boss._

_Clint couldn’t help it, his eyes widened at Steve’s napkin though. “Really? What, you stole a cookie?”_

_Steve scratched his neck. “No, I ate a bite of pie before the procedure.”_

_Could have heard a pin drop. There was silent blinking as everyone stared. Some of them not comprehending the gravity of his confession. They only understood that Cap was contrite and obviously carried guilt over it. Bruce did however._

_“You ate before the procedure?” his voice incredulous and rising._

_Steve swallowed. “Yeah, and I couldn’t even confess to Dr. Erskine that I did it, that I might have screwed up his life's work, because he got killed right in front of me,” his snapped defensively._

_“For decades they tried to recreate what he achieved with you. And you’re saying a missing component could be as simple as pie?”_

_Steve frowned. Felicity was barely breathing over the implications and Tony looked like a kid at Christmas. “What pie?”_

_“Apple. It’s my favorite,” Steve offered sheepishly._

_Clint snickered and watched the room descend into a cacophony of chaos over Captain America eating pie before a major medical procedure and not telling a soul about it. Until now. He had never suffered Special Agent Coulson’s brand of hero worship over the iconic hero. He believed Cap to be a patriotic, decent man, and a dedicated soldier but he never forgot that he was only human. Granted he was a sup’d up human, but Clint often wondered who would win in a no holds barred fight between Natasha and the American Super Soldier._

_Natasha was fast, skilled and she had her smaller size to help her evade and she was the type of fighter to exploit her every advantage. He wondered if Cap’s ingrained chivalry might trip him up at any stage too. It was a match he’d pay to watch. Not that he’d ever give voice to that secret desire. Steve’s disapproving glare notwithstanding, Tasha would probably bend him like a pretzel._

 

::: ::: :::

 

Special Agent Field Assessment Score. The bane of every Agents’ existence. A requirement and a boosting yard-stick for the petty minded. Or the overly competitive.

 

“How’d you do?” she asked offhandedly.

 

Did he dread that question. If he scored higher, she would refuse to accept it. Demand to see the report and if it was in the area of weapons or marksmanship she would be a hairsbreadth from marching them both to the personnel office and demanding a re-test. Or the remainder of the week would result in him spending every second of his down time sparring or coaching her.

 

“I got an A.”

 

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. “What was the percentage?”

 

Clint sighed, so much for coasting along hoping she would accept that he got the same grade as he did last year.

 

“96% proficiency.”

 

Natasha stopped walking and Clint flexed his fingers preparing to grab her if she made a sudden about face. Worrying that some Level 2, Desk Agent would be in danger of having their fingers broken.

 

“Show me?” she said holding her hand out, wordlessly waiting for him to comply with her unspoken request for proof.

 

Clint resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that would add to her impatience and earn him a frosty warning glare, pulled out the slip of paper from inside his jacket. He gave it to her with great reluctance.

 

Her eyes skimmed the page rapidly and she thrust it back at his chest. “Two points higher on explosives handling and a faster time on the range. How is that even possible? Your draw is not faster than mine.”

 

Clint felt a smirk twitching against his will. “Maybe I just get around faster than you.” He knew any reference to her being remotely less agile than him was sure to earn him a punch but he couldn’t help himself. “Ow, don’t you ever want to pretend to be a lady?”

 

Natasha glared at him. “Stop baiting and misdirecting, we need two unbiased assessors and we need to settle this.”

 

Clint let out a long breath and scratched his ear. “We do this, we never discuss scores ever again. Period. No take backs, no addendums, no recounts, once and done between us forever. Deal?” he asked, his eyebrow revealing just how much confidence he had in her accepting his terms, but also conveying how over it he was about this unnecessary competitiveness between them.

 

Two days later, they sat back to back on the assembly platform, knees up, sweat making their hair cling to their temples and breathing hard. Or at least Clint was. He could never tell with Tasha unless he was watching her chest move. Natasha was a nose breather and quieter than a hummingbird. He counted it as part of her stealthy, deadly assassin training.

 

Steve had his Captain’s face on when he approached and Barnes looked about as excited by the prospect of speaking with them as getting a root canal.

 

“Verdict?”

 

“Clint, your time completing the mission objectives was 15 minutes, 28 seconds. No civilian casualties and you found the second bomb under the stairwell.” 

 

Barnes developed a sudden eye twitch and Natasha cursed in Russian.

 

“How bad?” she demanded, her tone testy.

 

“You deactivated both bombs, but you clipped a civilian simulation when you took out one of the targets,” he told her. 

 

Natasha nodded wordlessly. She couldn’t even argue that it wasn’t a fair comparison because while on mission each operative was allowed his or her weapon of choice, during the exams they were required to use the standard issue M11. 

 

Clint would kick himself for it later, especially when he had an heat bags on his shoulders and he couldn’t even lean to reach for the television remote but he couldn’t take it back once it had left his mouth. “So who’s the better marksman?”

 

Natasha turned and gave him a frosty glare. He knew what she was going to say, even before she said it. “0800 tomorrow, the Open Range.”

 

He had to be kidding himself if he thought the competitiveness between them would ever be put to bed. And truthfully his days away from home would be dull if it weren’t for Natasha’s quirky humor and deviousness. He liked having to think twice before yanking opening his locker, and to check his car for tampering before starting the engine. It kept him sharp. And in his line of work, he needed that. 

 

He also counted it as a win, that his being back on active duty and partnering up with Tasha again had seemed to have successfully drawn her out of whatever flunk she'd fallen into. Her concentration and her expression during the timed field test was as focused and fierce as he'd ever seen her. Agent Romanoff was back at the top of her game. And bruises, twitchy nerves and masculine ego aside, he couldn't be happier.


End file.
